


Haircut

by markwatneyandensemble



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Tumblr Prompt, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 01:25:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15401910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markwatneyandensemble/pseuds/markwatneyandensemble
Summary: 58: One time Scully cuts Mulder’s hair





	Haircut

She missed him. A lot. Since she’d left his doorway, after all that they’d said, all she had wanted to do was turn around and go back.

She kept telling herself that he needed space. After all he’d been through in the last few weeks, in the last year for that matter, he could use a little time alone. And a little time to grieve.

She was telling herself all these things, when her phone rang and she dove to answer it.

“Scully.”

“Hey, it’s me,” he sounded a little hesitant. “Can you come back?”

She immediately went into doctor-mode. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“I need help with my bandages… the doctor said I need to change them every couple hours and I can’t see the back…”

She could practically hear him pacing around his apartment.  _This was a ploy to get her over there. He’d been injured enough he practically could change them in his sleep. And besides, when had he ever followed a doctor’s orders?_  She tried to convince herself not to go, that he needed time to process whether he knew it or not. But then the  irrational tried to justify it’s argument.  _He can’t leave the wound exposed, it’ll reopen._  And before she knew it, she was standing back in front of his door, wondering why she had felt the need to come running to his aid so eagerly, and wondering if it was a mistake.

She had her hand raised to knock, but the door swung open before she could make contact.

“Hey, Scully.” He gave her a small smile. His victory cap was absent from his head, and his hair sticking up in all directions around a messily wrapped bandage. “Thanks for making this house-call.”

“No problem.” She followed him inside, and put her hand on his shoulder to guide him to the couch, sitting him down in front of her. She stepped between his legs and started unwrapping his head.

Under the bandage, she found the long, but thin red scar tracing around his head, and disappearing into his choppy hair like a halo.

“Whoever cut your hair at the hospital did a bad job,” she said, as she ran her hands through his hair far more than called for. It felt soft and silky beneath her fingers, like it always did. She found the end of the scar, just above either ear, and saw that the stitching, while badly done, was healing up nicely. She was about to turn away and start bandaging him again when she noticed a couple red scratch marks on the left side. “Mulder, have you been itching the scar?”

“Hmm?” his eyes were fixed straight ahead. Only, she realized, straight-ahead from his face was her chest. She rolled her eyes, and tilted his chin to look at her face. “A little,” he answered, “it was just a little itchy.”

She sighed. “How many healing wounds is it going to take for you to not reopen them?”

He shrugged and stared up at her with large, puppy-dog eyes. She rolled hers in response. “The itch’s probably the bandage pressing longer strands of your hair into the cut. I can trim it for you, your hair will just be shorter for a while.”

“As long as I’m not bald, I trust you, Scully.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Where’re your scissors?”

He thought for a second. “Bottom left corner of my closet?”

She opened her mouth to comment on his absurd organization system, but he beat her with a defense. “There was a loose string on one of my sweaters. And then I forgot to put them back.”

Another eye roll. “Hold on.” She strode into his closet, and found the scissors where he’d said they were. She stood up, her nose only briefly brushing a pile of shirts, taking in the scent of his off-brand laundry detergent. While the makers of “Arm and Mallet” likely were just trying to be the cheaper alternative, that smell felt more comforting to her than any one with a teddy bear on it.

When she returned, she found him sitting in the middle of the kitchen, on a solitary chair, as if he cared about the mess he was preventing.

He smiled at her. “I’m thinking longer on the top, shorter on the sides, think it’ll frame my face better?”

“You’ll be lucky if you don’t have to comb over.”

“What?”

She grinned at him playfully, and stepped back between his legs, far closer than was necessary for the job she was doing. One hand ran again through his hair, feeling it between her fingers.  _God, it felt good_. After a moment, she realized she had just been standing there running her hand in his hair. Her face flushed with embarrassment, and she glanced down at him. His eyes were shut, with a sweet smile on his face. When she pulled her hand away, they snapped open, and he looked up at her, and their eyes locked. The air between them became more electric as they stared into each other’s eyes, lips parted, their faces mere inches away from each other.  _Is it my imagination or was he leaning in closer?_  That question was answered when she felt one hand on her hip, and the other reaching up to her neck. Every so slowly, she let him guide her face to his, their lips meeting in the soft, tender kiss she’d been craving since that morning. Hell, since 1992.

Her heart raced in her chest as he wrapped his arm tighter around her waist, pulling her tightly against him. Her arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders, and in the distance, she could hear the scissors clatter to the floor. His lips pressed harder, the kiss becoming less and less chaste. She felt the velvety softness of his tongue brush against her lips, and she opened to him in an instant. Their tongues ran against each other,  _god, this felt good_ , and she could feel him placing his hand on the inside of her knee, to guide her onto his lap, where she went willingly, groaning at the contact. She sighed happily against him, and she could feel the corners of his mouth turning upwards in a grin. She let her hands wander back to his hair, running through it, worrying the soft strands between her fingers. Their lips only broke apart when her right hand accidentally grazed his scar, causing him to wince.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed. He chuckled and shook his head, leaning forward to rest it on her shoulder as they leaned against each other catching their breath. “’s fine,” she heard him mumble.

She felt his lips press into her neck, and for a moment, she let herself drown in the sensation. But then the constant, rational voice in her head piped up.  _This was wrong. He’s grieving. You’re grieving. You’re partners._

Irrational Scully remained unconvinced, leaning in and letting him trail his lips up her neck towards her jaw. Her eyes opened halfway, and she saw the thin red line through his hair. It was like ice water in her veins. She stood up and practically jumped back, with Mulder looking as surprised and terrified as she was.

“I’m sorry,” they both gasped at the same time.

“No,” she said, reaching out to touch his chest, trying to reassure him. “I just need to…” she pointed at his scar. They needed to be responsible, and he knew it too. The best they could do to fix whatever was done to him would be to cover the cut, and let it heal. Making out on a kitchen chair wasn’t going to help, no matter how much they both were convinced.

He nodded, and she stepped around him to pick up the scissors.

“I’m… uh, just going to cut the sides a little shorter so that you still have hair when you don’t need the bandage, but not so long it’ll irritate the skin while the bandage is on.”

He nodded, and she stepped towards him again, only standing by his side this time. That said, she didn’t miss his hard swallow when her thigh brushed his.

She pinched his hair between her fingers, and cut just below, like she’d seen her mother do to her brothers a thousand times in her childhood home. Come to think of it, this kitchen wasn’t a far cry from that navy base house. Tiny, with dark, painted cabinets and cheap, tacky tiles.

She made her way around his head, evening up the choppy cuts some hospital official had put in his hair. She cut a little below the ears so it didn’t look uneven or strange. He shivered when she put her hand under his jaw to tilt his head.

“Stay still,” she said.

“You’re making it hard.” She traced her finger under his jaw, and it got another shudder. His breathing had gotten ever so slightly heavier.

“Well,” she said, “you’re in luck. I’m finished.” She walked over to the first-aid kit and pulled out the roll of gauze and cut a good length. “You’ll want to see an actual barber as soon as it’s healed more. Your hair’s looking a little like Charlie’s around 1976. But it’ll itch less.”

She came back to him, hesitating, before stepping between his spread legs. She started wrapping carefully over the scar.

“I can do that, Scully,” he said, forgetting his entire excuse to have her over. “You can head home.”

It wasn’t an offer, but a question. She shook her head as she stared into his eyes.  _No_ , she thought, _I don’t want to._  He seemed pleased by her answer.

“I am a medical doctor,” she said, as though her degree made her more qualified for the job. Her hand cupped the side of his head, as she finished wrapping the gauze around his head.

“There,” she said. “And there wasn’t a lot of blood, so it’s mainly just protection for now, so you don’t have to change it as frequently. It’s pretty tight so it won’t slide off or anything”

“No matter what I’m doing?” He waggled his eyebrows at her, and got an eye roll.

“I… uh, guess my work here is done,” she nearly stepped away, but his hands grasped her hips again. Her eyes locked with his- his full of love, and desire, and hunger. She was sure her eyes showed the same emotion.

“Scully,” he said, unmoving this time. Letting her make the first move. It didn’t take any convincing on her part, as her lips descended on his by the second syllable. Their mouths melded together once again, each groaning, realizing how much they’d been starved for this. It felt like they’d reached “Finally” part, like they were given the opportunity to enjoy something for once.

But it came to an end far quicker than it had started. She knew, however  _right_ the time felt like, they still weren’t there yet. They broke apart, and he rested his forehead against hers.

“What is it?” he whispered.

“What?”

“I can hear you thinking. What’s wrong.”

She opened her eyes again, and pulled back slightly, the image of him in front of her bringing her back to reality, reminding her of that morning.

“Dia-“

“Scully,” he tried to stop her. “Not her. Not that subject. Please.”

“She just died,” Scully said, a lump forming in her throat. She wanted to hate that woman, despite her last redeeming actions. But she didn’t hate him, and  _she_  was a part of him, of his past. So she couldn’t. And she couldn’t do this so soon. “She meant a lot to you. You need time.”

“Scully, I’m not getting over a breakup, this isn’t a rebound. It’s us. It’s comfort, and…” he gulped, almost backing out of whatever he was going to say. “…and love.” He let it sit in the open for a second. “And our  _time_.”

She shook her head. “I can’t… I can’t start this so soon after all that’s happened in the last few weeks.”

“Scully,” he protested, but she stopped him by pressing her lips tight against his. She broke apart before he could deepen it.

“Soon,” she whispered. “But not now.”

He stared into her eyes, before nodding. She cupped the back of her head, before pressing a long kiss into his forehead, a mirror image of that morning.

They shared one last wordless gaze before she reached down and squeezed his hand tightly. And then she left the apartment, aching just as much for him as she had this morning, if not more, but knowing it wasn’t the time to run back.


End file.
